Lash
by EHWIES
Summary: You look like a trashy novel, says James. You look like it's past your bedtime, says Dorcas.


**Lash**

Dorcas is having one of _those_ nights, and it's too wet outside for her to be doing this. The lights are all out across Muggle Scotland, but the sky is bright enough on its own feet, stumbling around and stomping down the power lines. The rain bruises her in sheets. Sundays are the worst, because it's been a whole two days with no schedule to wind her up.

"You look like a trashy novel," yells James.

"You look like it's past your bedtime."

"You forget we have the same curfew. Last I checked, Heads don't get special privileges, Dora."

He's caught up to her now—a whole head shorter (which is saying something), glasses fogged up in the dank. She cups his cheeks, thumbs the cheekbones, then slides back and up to tug his hair and kisses his forehead, pressing in her nose and inhaling like a promise. She's got the routine down like clockwork yet savors him like new, every time. As has been usual these past months, he smells wrong, like smoke and incense instead of refuge.

"It's time to go inside now," he says, always better in a crisis than after.

"I don't want you taking care of me."

"Yes, you do."

"Yes, I do," she says, but they know she doesn't want to. "Please don't touch me."

James steps back, rocking on his heels like he used to do in detentions when he was young. They're so old now, Dorcas always feels, yet clearly so young, because young people are silly and so is she.

She wonders whether there's a bale of hay somewhere that wouldn't groan under the weight of everything she doesn't shake.

In bed at her mother's once, Lily started panting and then rubbed her back fiercely, told her she could see the heavy and it was the shape of a spider, encroaching. Dorcas can't see things like James and Lily can. Sometimes she's curious, but mostly it's a relief, because when the novelty wore off she'd just panic and press on her head to try to crystallize it out.

"How crowded is it tonight?"

"Crammed. Like King's Cross on move-in day, except everything is red."

James barks, because he gets that it's funny like most people don't. The looks that land on Fabian's face probably alarm her more than her original comments alarm him. "I had a bad dream," she says.

"Last night was a long time ago."

"Yeah, well, I don't—it's hard for me," fumbles Dorcas. James shrinks a bit. "I blew up half the buildings in Diagon Alley and stole their goods because my shop—I was a shopkeeper—it wasn't doing well, and I was pawning everything off in Knockturn—I know it's stupid, but it made sense when I was—and I—my wand—I kept slashing people apart with my wand who saw my face. I was someone else for most of it, just watching, you know, but then it was me and I was standing there with a couple of kids rounding the corner, and I knew what was going to happen, and you weren't there. You're never there anymore."

"I know." James never apologizes for this, even though he always leaves her and Dorcas always pins her life on him to keep him, like that'll work. It doesn't, of course, and Lily is a lovely girl who said a lot of horrible things when they were close, about things like human decency that don't belong to Dorcas and so shouldn't be given to her, either. Direct quote there, human decency.

"You only stayed because they made you."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

"It's not, stop saying that!"

"See, and then I always do this to you."

"Not every time." James is a phenomenal liar, since he believes himself when he talks.

Dorcas doesn't think he's ever going to get over the almost-Death Eater thing. Dorcas doesn't think _she's_ ever going to get over the almost-Death Eater thing, and there are so many things she can say on the subject that anyone—maybe even James—would believe but her.

She can't brew potions anymore like she used to—real life squashed all the talent out, and she used to make things that were worth tasting, but now she's just tired and there are so many faces in her mind and there has always been something scared and scary in her, licking the ropes that chafe it and groping. Dorcas isn't as smart anymore, Dorcas isn't as herself anymore, and she would have done so much with their time and she would do so much with her life if only the penance would take.


End file.
